


A Painful Extraction

by TheMagnificentSciFiScout



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic, Nogitsune Stiles, Possessed Stiles, Possession, Spark Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:19:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagnificentSciFiScout/pseuds/TheMagnificentSciFiScout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post 3x19, Deaton brings the unconscious Nogitsune to the loft and summons the pack to interrogate the fox to try to save Stiles trapped within.<br/>But the Nogitsune's power stems from pain and using what Stiles knows and what he does best- words- the Nogitsune is about to become more powerful than ever before...</p>
<p>But why Beacon Hills? And why Stiles?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Painful Extraction

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I wrote this all in one go, so spelling mistakes/plot holes/bad writing may be corrected later, but it's 1:31am where I am so it's going up and you can like it or lump it!
> 
> Please comment on this if you have ANYTHING to say!

When Stiles came to, he was lying flat on his back. He could feel the smooth concrete of the floor beneath him, smell the must of old books and cobwebs, hear the shuffle of feet and the rhythms of breath of- nine? ten?- people around him. He knew where he was, with a rush of relief. He was at the loft. He opened his eyes and laughed from the sheer _relief_ of it, of _knowing_ where he was.

Or rather, he tried to.

Because whilst Stiles heard his laugh in his mind, he couldn't hear it with his ears. He felt as if he'd sat up, but hadn't moved. He tried to see, to open his eyes and look around, to know who was gathered around him.

But he couldn't.

_It_ was still here.

He could feel it moving him, crowding him out within his own head. He felt as though he was crammed into a small corner in his own brain, passive whilst the thing- the Nogitsune- curved his lips and worked his voice.

"My, my, flat on my back, I do declare- is this how you wanted me, Deaton?" The tension in the room racketed up noticeably and Stiles felt the smile on his face get even wider. His eyes opened and he had a second to take in the bare wooden beams of the roof of the loft before he was sitting up, casually leaning back on his hands and sprawling his legs wide.

He could see them now, Deaton looking as inscrutable as ever, Scott looking grim, Derek equally so and Isaac, wide eyed and tense. The Nogitsune rolled his head on his shoulders, taking in all the rest of the people ranged around the outside of the grey ash circle drawn around him. Allison, next to Issac but blank-faced and dead-eyed with her crossbow sitting easy in her hands, her father Chris holding his guns so casually you might have thought that they were extensions of his arms. Melissa  stood next to him, watching with a creased brow of worry and flanked on her other side by his dad-  _oh god his dad_ \- who looked wrecked, as though the only thing holding him together right now were the clothes on his back and the badge on his chest.

It was far too familiar a look on his fathers face.

Lydia was next, haughty but terrified, Aiden and Ethan as aggressive as they ever had been, then he was back to Deaton. The smile slid from his face like mud, and the cold stare was something even Stiles, trapped on the wrong side of it, could feel. It waited.

Deaton spoke.

"What is it that you want in Beacon Hills?" it was careful, measured, with no intent but it spiked a reaction nonetheless, annoyance radiating from the foreigner in his brain. None of it was allowed to reach his face as it pulled his limbs like a puppet, standing carefully. It drew Stiles up to his full height and tilted his chin up. The smile was back, wide and cocky.

"What's it to you?" Scott growled softly and Deaton put a hand on his arm.

"Only that your... behaviour has been out of character. Such... vendettas are rather heavy stuff for a trickster spirit, don't you think?" The ire from the Nogitsune was tangible to Stiles now, he could  _feel_ it coiling in the pit of his stomach, overwhelming with its strength. Derek sniffed the air and stiffened, ever so subtly. No one else seemed to notice but then, no one ever watched Derek the way Stiles did.

Woah, boy.

There be dragons.

Back to business.

The business in hand being the sudden interest in Stiles' inner workings that the Nogitsune had suddenly taken. It seized upon his memories, rifling through them for- his mother?

Great. Now his day had just gotten worse.

Whilst it sorted through her long days of illness, through her worst rambling and most... colourful... episodes, it chatted, almost nonchalantly.

"Hey now, you make it sound like I have no depth Alan. Truly? I'm hurt."

"That was not my intention. My question is a simple one, however- what is it that you want in Beacon Hills?"

"Oh, you know, this and that, mischief and magic..." The spirit abruptly stopped its internal musings and focused on the proceedings.

"Besides, who are you to be questioning me? Surely-" it strolled forward, nonchalant- "I should be dealing with the  _true alpha_  of the local  _pack?_   The new  _guardian_ if I am to under-" It was brought up short abruptly as it hit the edge of the circle, and looked down, almost confused. The thick band of ash lay at its- Stiles' feet, the shimmering in the air rising from it right in front of his nose. The annoyance spiked again.

"Mountain ash, bitch" Aiden sneered from behind him. The Nogitsune smiled with Stiles' mouth, and cocked his head mockingly over his shoulder.

"You really wanna talk about bitches,  _omega_?" The answering snarl would've been impressive to look at, but the Nogitsune was watching Deaton's face. There was the smallest flicker of- what, concern? fear?. The smile Stiles could feel on his face grew wider. A plan started to swirl in his brain as the Nogitsune finally mapped out the situation. There was still things he couldn't see, players and history that the fox wasn't sharing but this much he knew. _  
_

The Nogitsune was weakened by whatever Deaton had given it, and couldn't breach the ash line- yet. The moutain ash wouldn't be able to hold it at full capacity however, and if there was one thing that the spirit could feed on it was the tensions in this group, this ragtag pack that was held together by rough stitches of circumstance and necessity.

And whats more, Deaton knew it.

Stiles wanted to scream, to tear his hair out and sew his mouth shut to stop the words that were building up inside him now, the vitriol that the Nogitsune was going to spill. But he couldn't- he couldn't do a damn thing.

The Nogitsune walked back to the centre of the circle and raised its-  _his-_ arms.

"That's it little  _omega_ , snarl all you want- you and I both know exactly what you can do about it. Which is, nothing. Neither you nor your Hawaiian-banging brother can do a damn thing." Ethan's eyes flashed blue at the mention of Danny. The Nogitsune cocked Stiles' head. "Oh yeah Ethan, no doubt about it- you like some pineapple on your pizza don't you?" The Nogitsune threw back his head and  _laughed_ , whilst both the twins pressed themselves against the barrier. Lydia clamped a hand around Aiden's arm and pulled him away, her eyes wide. The fox was onto her in a second.

"Oh Lydia. My ginger queen. My brainy banshee. My poor, unappreciated, undervalued, underestimated  _bitch_ of a high school heartbreaker. You just couldn't do it, could you? You just couldn't bring yourself to love this awkward bundle of honesty and brilliance? Well too late, sugar pie. I'm in him now, and I can see all that wasted love, all those spurned hopes. He resents you, and he'll always resent you, for being just  _too damn good_ to even deign to give him the  _time of day_! And with your track record? Maybe this boy was just what you needed. Maybe this boy is the only one who'll ever love you for more than those pretty little lips and creamy white thighs. But that's nothing you haven't already thought of, is it?" Lydia's eyes were wide and the loft was silent and Stiles' voice rose into the tension in the air, spilling all the worst and darkest thoughts he'd ever harboured. Tears swam in her eyes as the Nogitsune threw everything Stiles had to give. "So here you go again, falling onto the dick of the nearest emotionally unavailable werewolf  _bad-boy..._ only this time? This time he'd a cold-blooded killer, Lyds. This time he wasn't out of his mind, he's not got a good _reason_  to be as fucked up as he is and maybe, just maybe, you can't save him."

Allison cut in, her voice hard and flinty.

"Enough!" Stiles wanted to weep, she was playing right into its hands- already he could feel the power rushing through his veins from Lydia's distress, Aiden and Ethan's rage. And Allison was next, but this time it didn't take long.

"Honey, when are you going to realise that it's never going to be enough? That no matter how many werewolves you  _fuck_ you're always going to be a hunter, and you're always going to be related to good old Kate? That there's always going to be a part of you that  _loves_ that murdering, pyromaniac nympho you had for an Aunty?" It pointed at Chris.

"And how many wolves are you going to watch her get through,  _knowing_ that it's  _your sister_ that did this, it's  _your father_ who led you here, that _your wife_ would be doing  _so much better_ than you are? She knew how to lead, she would've stood for none of this- hell she would've put a bullet in anyone who came near her daughter. But you won't will you? Because then you'll be just like Kate, just another Argent gone coo-coo-cuchoo on the local supernatural population."

Allison and Chris were mirrors of each other, horror and helplessness in equal measures. Stiles hated himself for knowing this, for storing away in his mind the sure and certain knowledge that the ghost of Kate would not only haunt the Hale family members but the Argents as well.

Isaac pressed himself back as the Nogitsune turned on him. It was piteous, the look that it threw him, upper lip curling.

"Never good enough, Isaac? Never could get it right, could you? In love with your Alpha's ex? Fooling around with the one girl who can hurt him the most whilst you live under  _his roof?_  Why can't you just do it right, Isaac? Why have you ever NOT just FUCKED EVERYTHING UP?!"

The volume was supernatural loud, and the odd pane of glass in Derek's loft window shattered with the force of it. The power in his veins was surging the more pain the Nogitsune caused, and Stiles cursed himself straight into the pits of hell for his knowledge, for all the ways he had worked out his friends. He cursed himself for being able to see through them, for knowing exactly where to push to bring them crashing down.

He hadn't meant for this, he couldn't have known that the fox would come to use the knowledge to hurt those who he'd collected it to protect.

Stiles would've wept, but his tears shrivelled before they reached his eyes.

The Nogitsune spread its arms again andd spun on the spot, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, the knowledge in this head! The things he knows, the things he's  _worked out_! He decoded every single one of you, he could take you apart with just a few well-placed words and he never did! _He never did!_ Are you sorry now? Do you wish you'd protected him now? Is he worth your time now, now that he's the instrument of your destruction?"

The flair for drama was a little much, Stiles thought miserably. The Nogitsune laughed at him.

"Oh and I can  _hear him_ in here! Oh, I like him,  the sarcasm, the mischief. It's no wonder Barrow chose _this_ boy to take _me_ in! He has all the potential here, so very... hmmm...  _corruptible_ "

It pointed at Melissa and laughed.

"But back to business! You- you! You I like. You tried, oh so very hard, to be a good mother to your son, and to this boy, so lost and cold and lonely on your doorstep. But you failed didn't you? You never measured up to Claudia, Claudia who will always be this boy's mother, whose husband never left her, never stopped loving her. What kind of woman are you, to drive your husband to drink?"

There was another hit of power and the Nogitsune threw back its head, breathing it in. Scott snarled sharply as his mother's tears hit the floor. The fox stared him straight in the eyes.

"Oh Scotty boy. You left him, didn't you? Look in these eyes, these big brown eyes, and tell me honestly that you did  _all_ that you could.  _Tell_ me how you  _tried_ to save this boy, who taught you more about being a werewolf than any actual wolf ever has. Tell me, Scott. Tell me how you  _failed him._ Scott didn't stop snarling but the rush of power was all that Stiles needed to feel to know that the words hit home. _  
_

The Nogitsune was jubilant, and Deaton looked crestfallen. It was so close, so close now to breaking that ash line and getting... what? What did it want? There was a wall in his own head, a slippery blackness that Stiles couldn't get a hold of, never mind see through. But he tried, he struggled and screamed as the Nogitsune turned to his father.

"Oh, Sheriff. i've said nothing that isn't true tonight. I've said nothing that you, and everyone here, can't know as the truth. So listen up, father dear, and listen close."

The Nogitsune paced towards his dad who looked... well there were no words for how his dad looked right now. The closest thing would be  _broken_  but even that couldn't cover what he saw on his father's face. it burned him, burned him to his very core and onto the back of his eyelids.

"I was in her too, you know. Your wife."

Wait, what? Stiles went absolutely still in his head.

"It takes a certain amount of power for a Nogitsune to possess someone of course. It makes it easier if that person is... how shall I put it? A bit closer to the supernatural than normal? Deaton calls it a spark, she called it her "funny little feeling" but you knew it as just one other thing to love and find extraordinary about your beloved Clauds. That, combined with the fact that she lived in the established territory of a werewolf pack  _and_  right next to the largest Nemeton in North America just made it too easy." The Nogitsune looked up at the ceiling and shook it's head wistfully.

"I had big plans for Claudia, her and I. Once the last vestige of her personality was gone, it would have been a simple case of another one of her "midnight strolls" and a burned out car on the highway. But no, she wouldn't just  _die_ , she kept on chattering in the back of my head, always " _John this and Stiles that and oh-my-precious-boys and get-out-you-son-of-a-bitch"_ ". The Nogitsune looked back at the sheriff who looked like he may need to pick his jaw off the floor, along with a couple of pieces of his broken heart. Stiles couldn't blame him- he felt the same.

"So when the local Alpha bitch came and cast me out it was too late for her and she died a natural death- too much a damage to her brain, too much stress and decay- and I was left to what? Just  _die?_   **NO**."

I found William Barrow, I used him to keep me going. Ifed him with tales of werewolf evil and God's plan- he thought I was an angel, come to  _validate his purpose in this world and the next_." The Nogitsune chuckled again, and Stiles wanted to scream. He was reeling from the news of his mom, but he could feel the power building. The fox spirit was playing for pure time now, indulging a bit of personal history whilst the misery in the room ripened, until the pain was enough for it to break the ash line. Surely they could  _see_ that? Surely they could tell that it was just waiting for them? _  
_

_Make a move!_  He screamed in his head  _Just kill me!_

But no one did.

It kept right on talking.

"But I couldn't take him. He was too weak. I told him to find someone suitable, someone close to the werewolves but  _pure_ \- maybe he took that a bit too seriously, it really didn't have to be a virgin, but I'll take what I can get- and lo and behold! He brings me the son of the very woman who was so close to perfect for me. I admit I'd taken a gamble on the people closest to the wolves being magical, but damn, did this work out!"

The Nogitsune flexed his arms, laughing into the deathly silence the filled the loft. Stiles wondered why no one had broken it, why no one was shouting out and shouting him down, but when he looked around, their eyes were downcast, defeat in every line of their bodies and pain flowing through his veins as liquid power. It was draining them he realised, it was draining them of every feeling. The fox was jubilant. _So close now, so close_ it chanted, picking its way around the circle. It stopped in front of Derek, the only one unbowed, his face inscrutable.

"And then there's  _you_."

The Nogitsune took some real pleasure in letting that pause hang there, in holding Stiles down mentally as he squirmed to stop it, anything, just to end this.

"Oh, there's something about _you_. This boy isn't blind and he sure as hell isn't stupid but when it comes to you? He's both. And you're just as bad. In another time maybe, if things were different, I would've enjoyed throwing you two together; the odd prank here, an unfortunate incident there, repeated forced meetings with just a  _hint_ of danger and- voila!" The Nogitsune smacked its lips dramatically, leaning against the moutain ash barrier that felt so much thinner now than it had before.

"Oh, it would've been delicious. But as it is, I'm inside him-  _inside_ him Derek, isn't that a _delectable_ thought- looking out, and it's not nearly as fun." The fox pouted his lips and batted his eyelashes.

"But whaddaya say, Derek? I'm sure it could still be  _pretty_   fun." Derek was stiff as a board, as stone, as the Nogitsune pressed all the way up against the barrier. There was a sub-vocal growl emanating from his chest that Stiles could feel distantly, as he renewed his efforts to crack the hold the darkness had on him. He'd watched the pain the Nogitsune had inflicted with words- but he would be damned before he would let it do anything with actions.

_Enough_. He thought savagely, tearing into the wall of darkness in his mind, fighting from the tiny corner in his head that was still him, still  _Stiles_.  _Get out you son of a bitch_. He thought of his mother, of all the times he'd found her curled up somewhere in the house, shaking in terror, all the times her screams had woken him in the middle of the night. The thought that it was this, this  _thing_ that had done that to her, to them, to him, to his dad, was what fueled him. 

There was perhaps the tiniest tinge of fear in the fox now as he gained ground in his head. He fought on.

The Nogitsune started to press through the barrier, parting it around Stiles face where it pushed through. Derek didn't move a muscle as everyone else in the circle slumped, the drain on their emotions getting heavier as the fox pushed through the ash. Even Deaton keeled over, looking as close to emotional as Stiles had ever seen him

_Move, you idiots!_  Stiles screamed in his head  _WAKE UP! Wake Up!_  

But they couldn't hear him, and all Stiles could see was Derek's face, getting closer and closer as the mountain ash thinned. The fox smiled.

"Deaton asked me what I wanted in Beacon Hills, what vendetta I had. Well like I said Claudia was as close to a perfect host as I've ever gotten and your  _mother_ cast me out of her. So it's not  _what_ I want, it's  _who_. And I. Want. Stiles."

With that it crashed through the mountain ash and latched onto Derek's mouth. All  the years of pain and guilt and anger that he held within him were brought to the surface by the fox's touch, and black lines webbed Derek's face as it began to feed. The rest of the pack could only watch from where they were slumped, unable to move from under the Nogitsune's sway.

_Watch, Stiles_ it said to him in his head _Watch me kill him with a kiss. You always wanted to kiss him, didn't you? So watch me kill him. WATCH ME._

The final words were hurled at him in desperation as he finally broke through the wall in his mind. Control of his limbs flooded back to him and he shoved Derek, hard, in the chest to break the kiss, sending him flying away from him. Almost immediately the werewolves started to recover but before Scott could reach him, Stiles held out his hands.

"Stay back, it's still here, it's not dead, it's-" he was cut off by a sharp pain in his head. He could feel the fox fighting within him. Cradling his head, he staggered towards Deaton, Scott and isaac shadowing his movements. He fell to his knees beside the vet, shaking him awake.

"Deaton. Deaton! What do I do, how do I kill it? Deaton!"

The vet finally focused on his face and snapped to business. Stiles, for once, thanked his lucky stars that the vet had the mysterious ability to shut off all extraneous functions in a crisis. Deaton pulled out a jar with neon green fuzz in it, and another full of a familiar powder.

"Wolf lichen, and mountain ash. Tanya managed to drive the Nogitsune out with mountain ash- which is where you come in, Scott- but  _you_ need to kill it, Stiles. The lichen is for you. Now help me up" Scott cut in

"Uh, doc, are you sure-" Deaton cut him off with a withering stare and Scott helped him up, passing him off to Isaac and Derek who each took an arm. For a guy who sure couldn't stand up, he managed to boss them around just fine however.

"Stiles, lie down, arms and legs straight, palms up. Scott, you're going to puncture his veins-" Scott got another glare for the whimper he let out at that- "at each wrist, each ankle, over his heart and at his belly button. Pour the mountain ash in- don't let it touch you, for all our sakes- and then  _step back_. Stiles, before Scott does his thing I want you to put the lichen between your teeth."

"You's better hurry up, Scott" Stiles gritted out as he lay down, feeling the fox fighting with every fibre of its being. It was strong, too strong, with nothing but the memory of his mother's night terrors, his father's face, Melissa's kindness, Scott's love, Lydia's respect, Derek's smile and all the rest of the pack keeping it at bay now. Stiles was living in the past- if he even thought about the present, he was lost.

He was so absorbed he could only distantly feel the sharp hotness of Scott's claws as they punctured his wrists, the sides of his ankles- as they split open his shirt and hit him in the heart and the stomach. In fact he could'nt even register any pain until the mountain ash was poured in. Then, there was nothing but.

The minute the ash touched his blood, he screamed, long and loud, and the lichen fell from his mouth. He could hear Deaton telling Scott to hurry, and his father calling his name but nothing else could exist. It hurt, oh god, it hurt but he kept still, turning his other wrist the right way up again to let Scott get the rest of the ash in. Once each and every wound was covered in a small pile of ash, Stiles registered that he couldn't move- it was like he'd been pinned down. The fox needed nothing more to push through.

"Scott- Scott- help! Oh god, it hurts, it hurts, get it off me Scotty, buddy, help me" Scott backed away. His head swiveled to the side and saw his dad.

"Dad- stop them, help me, help, please, don't let them kill me, don't let them kill me like Mom-" and Stiles clamped his mouth shut, in control once again.

_You don't get to mention her name ever again_. He told it. He registered that he'd said it out loud dimly, but he was more concerned with the fox that was pacing the cell he'd put it in, outfoxed for now. A dry laugh escaped him.

"Hey-hey guys- I  _outfoxed_ him for now" The look on his father's face was beatific, and he knew he'd said the right thing- a classic Stilinski joke just to remind his dad exactly what kind of son he'd raised. Derek groaned and rolled his eyes from where he was stood supporting Deaton but the small smile playing at his mouth made the joke worth it as well.

Deaton cleared his throat

"Scott- cover your hands and put that lichen back in Mr Stilinski's mouth- now Stiles I need you to concentrate. With every fibre of your being, every strand of random thought" (okay, Stiles raised an eyebrow at that because  _every_ strand of thought? That was a tall order) "You must eat that lichen but focus- it is deadly to both you and the Nogitsune but with enough concentration you can force it to kill the fox, to  _only kill the fox_. Think about everything that it, what it represents, what it is and how you are connecting and break that bond with the lichen. Do it. Now!"

Stiles opened his mouth wide for Scott to drop the lichen in but the Nogitsune came tearing out of it's prison cell.

it screwed up his face and raged, flying spittle and raising his veins across his face. He could see a faint glow from his eyes hitting Scott's face, which was close and shocked. They were even now, the Nogitsune and himself two forces in one body, fighting for dominance. Stiles surged up desperately and tore the lichen from Scott's grasp with his teeth, chewing and swallowing in desperation.

All at once the fight went out of it, the fox in his head, and he was left alone with his thoughts. His head felt curiously big again as the fox shrunk smaller and smaller, withering away under the onslaught of poison.

Poison that was working its way through Stiles' body too. He could feel it, as surely as he'd felt the pain of his pack giving the Nogitsune power earlier he felt the lichen working its way through his system. He embraced it, encouraged it, watched in pleasure as it obliterated every last inch of the darkness from him.

It was only when the Nogitsune disappeared entirely that he remembered his own death- he tried to search frantically for a way out, for some way to stop the poison but he couldn't move. There were thousand-ton weights on him, one at each ankle and wrist, one at his heart and his belly.

_Mountain ash,_ he remembered.

He heard Scott in his head, screaming at him to fight. Scott. Always fighting, always forcing through the hard way. Or was it the good way? Maybe they were the same thing. Stiles had never taken that road, had never done what Scott had. He would never be half of what Scott was.

He moved on, sorting through his head to find a way out. Lydia's words came back to him.

_Since when have you ever needed instructions... You are too smart for them_ she whispered in his ear. But she was far from him, far above him. She was a glacier of self-control, true silk over steel, and he was nothing but a mess compared to her.

His father's voice came through, pleading with him to hold on, to come back to him. Stiles wanted to so badly but he couldn't find the switch, he couldn't find what he needed. He was never going to escape this drifting, this slow slide into nothingness that was apparently death.

Then of all things, Derek Halle spoke to him.

_Stiles, you have no business giving up_. And that hit him hard. Derek lost a pack, a family, a sister, an uncle, his first love and his status. He'd been betrayed by his girlfriends, used and lied to, he'd been downtrodden and beaten, tortured and hunted. And after it all, he was still standing. Maybe it wasn't the most stable of positions but it was standing nonetheless.

He was right.

Stiles had no business giving up.

He called upon that spark that Deaton had told him that he had, the small part of himself that sang when he held the mountain ash in his hands. He opened his eyes and looked down at himself. Scott, Derek, his father and Isaac all scuttled back and he could see the rest of the pack starting to climb to their feet, watching him warily. He saw the piles of ash pinning him.

He had barely looked at them before they smoked away, leaving dark trails under his skin in their wake. The open punctures beneath them ceased to bleed at the merest flicker of Stiles' thoughts.

Oh, this he could get used to.

_Up_  he thought, and lo and behold he rose like the bad special effects from a black and white Dracula, ramrod straight, but didn't stop there. He made it upright and went further, lifting up off the ground, a foot, two feet, then three. He stopped when he caught sight of himself in the remaining glass in Derek's windows. His hair was standing on end and waving slightly, as if in a wind, and his eyes were blank white. His shirt hung open over his torso, where he could see the spiderweb patterns left by the wolfsbane. He looked powerful.

He looked terrifying.

All at once the nausea and exhaustion hit him, and with a soft "oh" he fell the floor, landing in a pair of very nice arms.

And heaven help him, he  _said so_ he went right out and said what very nice arms he had fallen into. All he heard was his dads laugh, he felt the sheriff hug him tight around the middle and he saw the familiar very nice eyes that went with that pair of very nice arms.

Then he passed out.

*****

It was about a week later that him and his dad were stood in front of _her_ gravestone, having deposited the requisite flowers. They had been staring at her name, at the carved letters for what felt like a stupid length of time.

"We never knew, kid. We could never have known." Stiles nodded numbly as his dad squeezed his shoulders tight.

"She's at peace. And she's been "avenged", if that's what you want to call it. She would've been proud of you, Stiles. She always knew that you had her "funny little feelings". And now we know that you have her strength too. She would've been proud enough to burst. I know that I am." Stiles could only nod and let the tears fall. The only place he never spoke was here, at her grave, and he was pretty sure that his dad understood why.

Here, nothing needed to be said aloud to be heard.

They turned and walked away, reaching the edge of the cemetery in silence. Once outside, Stiles stopped dead as he saw that particular shock of black hair, that leather jacket, sitting on a bench. His dad looked at Stiles' face and chuckled under his breath.

"He wouldn't leave you alone the whole time you were unconscious but wouldn't go near you once you were. Looks like he's grown a pair now- maybe you should too." And with that, he dad  _clapped him on the shoulder and jumped in the car, leaving him alone. With Derek Hale._  

Worst. Dad. Ever.

Okay, he didn't mean that but really? Of all the things in the world to stand firm on, his dad had chosen Derek mother-freaking-fracking Hale.

His. Life.

He went over to Derek and threw himself onto the bench next to him, resolutely looking at the sky.

"So... nice day, huh?"

Derek was looking at him flatly.

"Oh-kay, maybe not. Whats up, bud?" He was currently addressing Derek's hairline, refusing to look him in the eye. Stiles didn't think he'd like what he would find. All sorts of sympathy and explanations of how  _sorry Stiles, I'm just not that into you. Or guys. In general. You know, so you never really had a chance. Why did you think that you did again?_

"I like you, Stiles."

Aaaaaaaand, Stiles ground to a halt.

When Derek started to get a bit worried at the lack of responsiveness and reached out a tentative hand to touch his arm, he stuttered back into motion however.

"Woah, woah, woah" Stiles held up his hands "Hold the phone. Do you  _like-like_ me Derek Hale or are you shitting me?"

Now there was a full-blown scowl on Derek's face and he crossed his arms (impressively, Stiles might add).

"You know what I mean. Don't be a shit about it."

Stiles grinned and opened his mouth again, but he was stopped by a hand.

Derek's hand.

On his mouth.

Aaaaaaaaand, Stiles was back to a halt.

"Everyone who I've... been _interested_ in... it's not been good for them Stiles. They've died. Everytime. Paige, Kate, Jennifer- they're  _dead_." Derek took a deep breath, a steadying breath. Stiles was all seriousness now.

"But you- you nearly died, and I thought that this was it, you were gone, the curse of Derek Hale strikes again. And then. Then, you  _came back_. You did what none of the others ever managed Stiles. You fought it. You were strong. You  _are_ strong. And I can't make this decision for you." Derek looked like he'd run out of words and to be honest, Stiles knew how he felt- he didn't quite know how to even begin to tackle what was going on right now. Derek's hand lowered to where his was sitting on the bench and rested on top of it. Stiles' heart swelled three sizes from that contact alone.

"What decision, Derek?" His voice was calm and measured, not entirely reflective of the inner storm inside, which was vacillating between awe (Derek Hale,  _Derek Hale's cheekbones, Derek Hale's eyebrows_ ), joy (Derek Hale  _likes me),_ and terror (holy shit he  _likes_ me, don't fuck this up, don't fuck this up). He finally looked Derek in the eye and was nearly bowled over by the- the honesty there. _  
_

"I've been so focused on me that I didn't think about you, what you want, how you feel. I thought that no one could survive me, that I was poison. But I was wrong. And I'm wrong for not thinking about you as well. I've been selfish and childish, and I- I want to try this. With you. If you want." 

Stiles didn't even have to think about what he said next- he'd said it a thousand times to himself, in dreams and fantasies and imaginary scenarios that are probably best kept secret forever and ever, amen.

"Yes. And not just because angels weep over your face (which they totally do, by the way) but because you're a smartarse and a wisecrack, you keep me standing and fighting and I think that inside you're a huge marshmallow. And I want to find out. I want to find it all out, Derek. I want to know everything about you and it will never be enough. I'll never want to stop and I kind of hope that you're okay with that because you look kind of shellshocked- oh my god, did I break you? I'm sorry, oh god, say something-"

Derek shut him up again, but not with his hand this time- this time, it was his lips that found Stiles, a brief hard press that scattered Stiles' thoughts and words. Derek pulled back a fraction and looked at Stiles' from an inch away, his eyes dancing.

"Something." he said against Stiles' lips. And then he stood up, offering a hand towards Stiles where he sat, gobsmacked, on the bench.

This was exactly the Derek Hale that Stiles was talked about, the softie with a smart mouth who had a light in his eyes that Stiles didn't know the name of.

But Stiles knew one thing as he took Derek's hand, fingers warm in his.

He was going to find out.


End file.
